


Wear A Rubber

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Rimming, Sloppy Seconds, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Maybe check the species of alien you're messing around with before you start getting down to business....





	Wear A Rubber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fringewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringewrites/gifts).



> ... I don't even know where this came from, but I hope you enjoy it!

Chekov had… a good shore leave.

He’d been wanting to let loose a bit - it had been… it had been a rough couple of months.

And okay, this particular bar was a bit… on the sketchy side, but what was life for, if not some variety?

And nobody ever gave Chekov any real trouble - he was too cute, too sweet, too unthreatening. 

He was… he was friendly.

How could he not be friendly, when he had the whole wide universe before him?

And he was being charming.

He could tell he was being charming.

… okay, he might have been a little bit… tipsy, as the case may be, but he was barely wobbling, as he expounded at length about the Enterprise, the greatness of his captain, of his home country….

And then he was flirting.

He’d somehow ended up flirting, and there were… he thought there were two of them, although it might have just been one of them.

They were tall, and there was something sinuous about the way they moved.

What had started out as the three of them sitting knee to… trunk to trunk had become a hand (with _very_ bendy fingers) on his thigh, and they were leaning in to him. 

He was leaning in to them. 

And at some point, there was a (boneless?) arm over his shoulders, and he could smell the alcohol on his breath, on their breath….

When had he gotten quite so loopy?

Everything was a bit… spinny. 

In a nice way.

He heard the term “soporific to humans,” in a slightly garbled voice, and then… they were in the restroom.

It was a multiple species bathroom, so nobody looked at them going in.

And then… it was a bit of a mess.

He was aware of stuff happening, but he was… he was feeling the soporific effects of the… whatever it was, except he had something in his mouth and they were moaning as he sucked on it.

It was flexible, and it was thick, and it was wriggling in Chekov’s mouth.

He sucked on it, instinctively, because they’d had a whole talk about sex, about what sex _meant_ , about the different ways of doing it.

And they were both species that did it recreationally, so….

And now… now, there was another long thin… tentacle? - down the back of Chekov’s pants, and it was sliding around and under him, to squeeze his cock, and then a different one was probing his ass, and then it was sliding into him, aided by the stickiness.

He moaned around the tentacle, and he mumbled instructions, encouragement, and he humped into it, and he moaned, his mouth wider open.

He was… he was drooling. 

He was drooling down his chin, and the slime tasted faintly like salt, and faintly like metal.

It was thrusting in Chekov’s mouth, as Chekov was cradled between the two of them, as he was fucked, his cock stroked.

He was… he was high as a kite, and he was… breathing heavily, he was being held, he was being _fucked_ , fucked a way he hadn’t ever been fucked before.

He was probably kind of high.

The alcohol had left his whole body a little lighter, had loosened his tongue - but not as loose as it was now, as he sucked on the lovely thick tentacle in his mouth, and it filled him up.

There was an undertaste - some kind of sweetness, almost like fruit.

The very tip of the tentacle against his cock pressed down on his slit, and then his ass was being filled by the tentacle - slightly firm, thrusting in and out, enough to make him roll his hips as his toes curled.

It felt… it felt indescribable, and he was riding the high of it, as his prostate was being manipulated, as his cock was being jerked, as he ground back against the tentacle inside of him, as the tentacle inside of his mouth traced his teeth, and more goo dripped down his chin.

There was a lot of goo.

He was swallowing some of it.

He probably should have… looked into that, come to think of it.

But oh god, he was… god, he was going to cum - he was going to cum _in his pants_ , this was going to be embarrassing, but it didn’t matter, none of it fucking mattered, all that mattered was how good it felt, was the noises that they were making, was the way they were now pulsating around his cock, god….

It felt so fucking good, it was… it was so good, and before he really knew what was happening, he was cumming.

Right in his pants, too.

He’d be embarrassed, but he was still… well, more than a little bit loopy by the effects of the alien slime.

He was loopy, and everything was spinning.

The alien was kissing him, awkwardly, and there was more purple goo on him, that tasted like fruit and metal and salt, and then they were staggering out of the bathroom.

… straight into the arms of… James T. Kirk?

“You know,” said Kirk, looking down at Chekov, his expression amused, “this is not the type of place I’d expect to find _you_.”

“I can live an adventurous life, Captain,” Chekov told him, his tone earnest.

The room was still spinning, and there was goo all over his face. 

He clung to the Captain, and the Captain patted him on the back. 

“You’ve had a bit too much, haven’t you?”

“Not too much,” he said.

“What’s that you’ve got on your face, ensign?”

“Face?”

He was on the floor now. 

Not even doing anything, just… sitting down. 

The room span.

“Ensign,” said Kirk, “I’m going to have to take you back to the ship, aren’t I?”

“Ships were invented in Russia,” Chekov said, and there were words coming out of his mouth, but not connected with his brain.

That was something. 

“Of course they were, buddy,” said the Captain.

Chekov’s cock was still hard, and he was still… twitching.

God, that was a good orgasm. 

Wow. 

Everything was just… spinning. 

He held on to Kirk’s shirt, and then the two of them were stumbling towards the entrance to the ship.

“Well,” Chekov, “well.”

“Well?”

“I… I do not often do this sort of thing,” said Chekov. 

“What sort of thing?”

“The sort of thing where… I have to be… taken out of the place,” said Chekov.

“You have been having _quite_ a night, haven’t you?”

Kirk sounded amused. 

“Have I?”

“You smell like… well.”

I don’t smell like a well,” he said. “I’m a person. I smell like a person.”

“Of course you do, ensign,” said Kirk, and he made sympathetic noises. “C’mon. Let’s get you back home.”

* * *

Chekov somehow ended up on his bed.

It was his bed - it was a good bed, too - it had pillows and everything.

Kirk pulled Chekov’s boots off, and then Chekov’s coat.

He lay Chekov on his side, and then he was… collapsing onto a nearby couch.

The lights had never been turned on, thank fuck.

And then Chekov was asleep - his final thought, before he fell asleep, was that he never got any contact info from those - that? - nice individual with all the purple tentacles.

And then he was asleep. 

* * *

Chekov woke up with a pounding headache, to Kirk’s snoring.

It was good snoring, too - the kind that sounded like someone sawing logs.

Chekov’s head hurt.

His head hurt, and his mouth tasted like artificial fruit and metal. 

He sat up, groaning, and then the snoring was stopping, and he heard shifting from the other room.

“Ensign?”

“Mmm?”

“How’s your head?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Chekov, and he rubbed his eyes. 

“How about I get you some water?”

There was some rustling - Kirk had left the lights out, and then he was getting a glass of water, and handing it to Chekov.

A little bit of light was peeking in through the crack in the door, but… well, things were very dim.

Chekov was grateful. 

“Thank you, Captain,” said Chekov, and then there was a body sitting next to him, and a glass of water was being handed to him.

He took a sip of it - it was ship water, and it tasted like home.

He sighed, and he drank it, leaning against the Captain, then realizing what he was doing, but he was too tired to really… stop.

“You smell like an alien brothel,” said Kirk, his tone cheerful. “What were you getting up to in that bathroom, anyway?”

Chekov cleared his throat, and then he was blushing.

“Um,” he said. and thankfully, the Captain couldn’t see. 

“You know,” the Captain said, his tone teasing, “I didn’t get as… adventurous as you seem to be until I was older.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Chekov mumbled. 

“Did you get their species?”

“Not… as such,” said Chekov, and he cleared his throat. 

“At least you’re not pregnant,” Kirk said cheerfully, and he patted Chekov on the shoulder.

“That can _happen_?!”

Terror shot through Chekov, landing flat in his gut and sending acid up his throat.

“You’re not pregnant,” said Kirk. “You’d know. Unless, you know, you ran into a new species….”

Was Kirk kidding?

… Chekov didn’t know.

“Bones can give you a full scan,” Kirk said, and his arm was still around Chekov’s shoulders.

“Oh god,” Chekov groaned, and he covered his face with both hands.

McCoy would never let him hear the end of it. 

“Yeah, you’ll probably get a nice lecture on the need for proper protection when engaging in sex with random aliens,” said Kirk. “But it could be worse.”

“Yeah? How?”

“He could be sticking his fingers up your ass while he did it, to get out the case of alien bugs you caught,” said Kirk.

Chekov shot the Captain a look out of the corner of his eye, one eyebrow up. 

“I had my own… youthful adventures,” said Kirk, and he stood up.

And promptly walked into a low table.

“Ow,” said Kirk, and then he told the ship to turn the light on.

Chekov swore in Russian, covering his face with both hands, because… ow.

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s like a hangover, Captain,” said Chekov. “Only moreso.”

“Moreso?”

Chekov was looking at the Captain’s back, and... oh wow, that was… that was a nice back.

He had a crush on Kirk - who _didn’t_ have a crush on Kirk, with those piercing blue eyes and the chin you could strike a match on?

But… now Kirk was in _his_ quarters, and he was… oh god, Kirk was looking at him, and Kirk’s eyes were going wide, and then… Kirk was speaking, and staring at him with bewilderment.

“What have you got on your face, Chekov?”

“Hm?”

He reached a hand up to feel his face, and found… dried goo.

Must have been from last night.

“Oh,” said Chekov. “I, uh… I….”

He had dried goo all over him, and he had dried cum in his pants, and... oh god.

“Were you… what were you doing?”

“I might have been having sex with an alien in the bathroom,” Chekov said, and he was talking to the air to the right of Kirk’s ear. 

“I figured that,” said Kirk. “We’ve all done that. But… what kind of alien?”

“They didn’t say,” Chekov squeaked.

“Let’s… let’s get you a mirror,” said Kirk, and then he was… helping Chekov up, and Chekov winced, because all of that dried cum was attached to his pubic hair, which… urgh, and also it was just… this was unpleasant. 

And then he was looking at his own face.

Yep, those were his eyes, and that was… purple.

His lips were stained purple, and there was a stain of purple across his chin, like he’d been eating a particularly drippy popsicle, or maybe he’d been drinking borscht from a funnel. 

“Oh no,” Chekov said, and there was something like dread in his stomach. 

“Did you….”

Kirk was looking embarrassed - he was turning very pink.

“I might have, um. I might have. That is….”

“Yes?”

“... I might have let them… use my mouth. With their… tentacles.”

“I see,” said the Captain. 

“... Captain?”

“Yes, Chekov?”

Chekov couldn’t entirely read whatever it was that the Captain’s face was… doing. 

It looked like he was trying not to start laughing.

“Can you… can you do me a favor?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you….”

Oh god, he was asking his Captain for this. 

Fuck.

“Yes?”

“Can you see if the rest of me is purple?”

“Why would it be purple?”

“Because I… I might… I might have let them put things other places.”

“Other places.”

Kirk’s tone was flat.

He was blushing, and he very clearly… he was feeling something.

HIs… wow.

Chekov wasn’t going to look Kirk in the face. 

He wasn’t.

He looked at the Captain’s waist… and then lower, and Kirk had an erection.

Um.

How was he going to… what.

Oh god.

And he was about to show Kirk his ass.

Oh god.

Okay.

“So… I’m going to… I’m going to drop my pants,” said Chekov. “Please don’t, uh… please don’t judge.”

“We’ve all done stupid things in our youth,” said KIrk, and he sounded amused.

“... fair enough,” said Chekov. “You’ll have to tell me about them some time.”

“I’ll be sure to,” said Kirk. “C’mon. Drop your pants. It can’t be too bad.”

Chekov was aware of his heart beating, very hard.

He was aware of his cheeks heating up.

He was aware that he was getting hard, but… okay.

He could blame that on having morning wood, or… something.

He’d stayed in dorms and the like for who even knew how long. 

So this was embarrassing, but… okay.

He could do it.

He dropped his pants, let them puddle around his ankles, and then he looked down.

… his dick was purple.

Splattered with purple.

His thighs were... wow.

He had it dripped down his thighs, and there was dried cum on his balls, and... he was a mess.

He looked like some weird, obscene painting by that one painter, from the twentieth century. 

And Kirk was looking at him, licking his lips.

"It's... you've got it all over you," Kirk said, and his voice was rough.

Kirk must have been as embarrassed as Chekov was....

Oh god.

Was he going to be able to look Kirk in the face?

"I'm going to have to go to Bones, aren't I?"

"Maybe it'll wash off," said the Captain. "Do you... do you need help with that?"

Um.

What, exactly, was Kirk offering?

Chekov's heart was pounding very hard, and his cock was getting hard. 

He looked down at it, and... yeah, there was no hiding that.

He sighed, and he turned around to face Kirk, because... might as well face the music.

"I'm sorry, Captain, this is... wholly inappropriate, and I understand if...."

"Chekov," said the Captain, and his face was... very red indeed, "you don't need to apologize. You're technically still on shore leave, and... if you want to... that is, if you had any interest in any of that sort of thing, I... might be amenable."

"That sort of thing?"

Chekov's head was pounding, from his hangover, from his arousal.

It was known that Kirk sometimes slept around with the crew; they were on a five year mission, and it wasn't like Kirk ever used his rank to get what he wanted.

But.

Um.

It was one thing to know that Kirk was both pansexual and usually interested in anyone who was interested in his direttion.

It was another thing to have Kirk just... looking at him like that.

"Something... physical," said Kirk, and he licked his lips. "Although, obviously, if you're not interested, there is no obligation."

"Oh, of course, Captain," said Chekov, aware that he was standing here with his pants around his knees, covered in the remains of some alien's arousal, and he no doubt had a pillow crease on his face, or something equally weird. 

"If I'm offering to have sex with you, please don't call me "captain,"" said Kirk, and something about his face made Chekov blush even more. 

"Of course... Jim," said Chekov. "You can call me Pasha."

"Right," said Jim. "So... what would you like?"

"Can you tell me... how bad the purple is?"

"May I touch you?"

Chekov nodded, licking his lips.

He was shaking, just a bit.

His shirt was going to have pre-cum stains on the hem.

To match the purple that was mottling the rest of it.

Oh god.

"Can you tell me what you... did?"

Kirk had his hands on Chekov's hips, and he was tracing one of the splatters of purple along Chekov's hip.

"I... I was flirting," said Chekov.

"You're good at that," said Kirk, his tone deadpan.

Chekov blushed.

"And then, uh... then we went into the restroom, and... they fucked me," said Chekov.

His cock twitched.

"How did they fuck you?"

Kirk's hand was move to Chekov's ass, tracing a random pattern.

Presumably, more purple.

"... they had, uh... tentacles," said Chekov, "and one of them was in my mouth...."

"Like this?"

Two fingers slid into Chekov's mouth, and Chekov latched on, sucking on them, drooling down his own chin.

Chekov nodded, and he was sucking, sliding his tongue between the two fingers in his mouth.

"No wonder there's so much," said Kirk, his voice rough. "How could they resist this mouth?"

Chekov flushed, but he kept eye contact, and he took Kirk's fingers deeper into his mouth, until he was almost gagging.

Kirk flushed.

"You like having stuff in your mouth, huh?"

Chekov nodded, and he sucked a little harder, his cheeks hollowing out. 

Kirk moaned - moaned, like he was being paid for it - and then he was pressing closer, his hard cock digging into Chekov's hip.

"I want to cover all that purple up with my cum," he told Chekov, right in Chekov's ear.

Chekov moaned, and he nodded.

"You like that idea?"

Another nod - his head was throbbing, full of arousal, full of... full of something.

He was shaking, and then Kirk was taking his fingers out of Chekov's mouth, and he was pressing their mouths together, and Chekov had his hands on Kirk's hips, then on Kirk's ass, pressing them closer together, chest to chest now, and Chekov's cock was pressing against Kirk's belly, and Kirk was moaning as well.

"Pasha," Kirk said, his voice quiet but intense, "I don't know if I want to fuck your face or your ass. Do you have a preference?" 

“I… I want you to fuck me where you want to fuck me,” said Chekov, and his voice cracked.

“I mean,” said Kirk, and his expression turned downright _lecherous_ , “we do have a whole day to ourselves.”

“Did you have… did you have anything planned?”

“Nope,” said Kirk, and then he was gently pushing Chekov towards the bed. “All I want to do is fuck you until I’ve covered up all the purple.”

_Oh,_

Chekov’s cock twitched again, and then… he was flat on his back, his legs being spread open, as Kirk tossed aside Chekov’s underwear and pants, leaving Chekov in just a shirt.

“I want to taste you,” Kirk said, voice thick, and he was getting on his knees, pulling Chekov, so that he could… oh.

Chekov flushed, as Kirk held the cheeks of his ass open.

“That’s a lot of purple,” Kirk said, his voice husky.

“I, uh…. Yeah.” 

“I can’t blame them,” Kirk said. “When I look at this hot little hole, I just can’t _wait_ to taste it.”

And then he licked a stripe, from Chekov’s taint, all the way to his balls.

Which were purple - he could see from here.

Um.

Wow.

He moaned, and Kirk pulled his knees up, so that the were resting on Kirk’s shoulders, as Kirk began to lick.

Ooh, fuck, that was… that was intense.

Chekov was moaning, gasping, panting up at the ceiling, his eyes sliding shut, his back arching.

“Fuck, Captain, Jim, fuck, please!”

“Mmm?”

Chekov looked down, saw Kirk making eye contact.

Kirk kissed up Chekov’s taint, and then he was kissing Chekov’s balls, sucking on them. 

“You’re pure purple down here,” said Kirk. “Although I can taste some of your cum, too.”

“They… they fucked me really well,” said Chekov, and his voice cracked. “It was pretty great.”

“I don’t have tentacles, unfortunately,” said Kirk, and then his _tongue was inside of Chekov’s ass_.

Chekov sobbed, and he hunched forward, his cock slapping against his belly.

“I can feel you trying to pull me in,” said Kirk, and he was kissing along the cheeks of Chekov’s ass.

He bit one of them, and sucked a hickey onto the already purple skin.

Chekov dug his heels into Kirk’s lower back, and he was shaking. 

“Please,” Chekov said, and his voice broke.

He was whining.

He was aware he was whining.

How did he stop?

Did he want to stop?

He was… so horny, god, he wanted it so badly.

Was there some kind of aphrodisiac in the alien cum, that was getting to him?

Probably not - he hadn’t been that horny when he woke up, had he?

But now… god, his cock was drooling precum, soaking into his shirt, and he was humping against Kirk’s mouth, and then he was… fuck!

Chekov had an orgasm.

It was an intense orgasm, but he didn’t… ejaculate.

Did it count as an orgasm?

His legs were shaking, and he was sobbing.

“Wow,” said Kirk, and he pulled back.

… his lips and tongue were purple.

Um.

Chekov blinked up at him, still shaking.

“You’re so fucked out already,” Kirk said, and his voice was thick. “I want… god, I almost wish it was still wet, so I could feel hot cum around me while I fucked you.”

Chekov moaned, squirming, and he spread his legs wider. 

“So do you want me to fuck you, Pasha?”

“Please,” Chekov said. “Please, I want it. I want you to fuck me.” Then he paused. “But maybe get the lube from the side drawer?”

“Right,” said Kirk, and then he laughed, clearly sheepish. “Sorry. I, uh….”

“Don’t be sorry,” Chekov said, and he shuddered, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it from root to tip, rolling his hips forward.

“Right,” said Kirk, and he was grabbing the lube, opening up the little bottle and drooling some onto his finger, then shoving his pants down with his other hand, stroking his cock.

Kirk’s cock was… well, it wasn’t a tentacle, that was for sure.

Kirk was uncut (Chekov was used to that - he was the exception at Star Fleet), and his cock was throbbing, the foreskin pulled back, the head flushed and dark.

And then Chekov stopped analyzing and started to just _feel_ , because Kirk was fingering him open, carefully, with lube covered fingers, sliding in and out of Chekov’s ass, as Chekov squirmed, spreading his thighs wider, panting up at the ceiling.

“You ready, Pasha?”

Kirk’s voice was rough, and the head of his cock was wet against Chekov’s thigh.

“Do it,” Chekov said. “Please. Do it, please, I want it so badly, fuck me, please!”

And Kirk slid in.

He held on to Chekov’s hips, and then he was holding on to Chekov’s thighs, and he was looking down between the two of them. 

“You’re so splattered with purple,” Kirk told Chekov, and then he was beginning to roll his hips, carefully.

The shaft of his cock was passing over Chekov’s prostate, and he was so deep inside of Chekov, it was… it was so good, and Chekov was sobbing, he was holding on to his own legs, and yeah, he could see the streaks of purple dripping down the back of it, and his cock was beginning to twitch like a tuning fork.

“How’s that?”

“It’s good,” said Chekov. “It’s… great.”

“God,” said Kirk, “I almost wish I’d fucked you last night, right there in that bathroom, with all that purple cum seeping out of you, fuck….”

Chekov moaned, closing his eyes.

He could almost see it in his own mind’s eye, and it was… god, being bent over a sink, as Kirk fucked into him, and then Kirk’s hands were on his cock, and he was humping into that, humping back against the cock inside of him, and his heels were probably going to leave marks on Kirk’s back, but oh god.

“God, Pasha, next time, how about… how about… mmm, fuck, yes, squeeze me, just like that… how about you can fuck someone in the bathroom, then I’ll take you, right there and then….”

Chekov reached out for Kirk, and then Kirk was pressing closer, and they were kissing, as Kirk began to speed up, and his hand on Chekov’s cock was speeding up - Chekov was beginning to get closer to cumming, and he was shaking, his whole body on edge, his toes curling… his feet were on Kirk’s shoulders now, and he was going to be sore in the morning, but who fucking cared?

His toes were curling in Kirk’s hair, and then he was arching off of the bed, because he was cumming, cumming into his shirt, and Kirk was gasping and growling like something out of one of the old earth pornos - who knew men still sounded like that? - and Kirk was pulling out, jerking himself off.

Kirk’s cum was landing on Chekov’s ass, and Kirk was just… spreading it out, using his fingers, and Chekov was shaking, because Kirk seemed to be covering up the purple, even as more cum dripped out of him.

“God,” Kirk said, and his voice cracked this time.

Chekov snickered. 

He couldn’t help it.

And then Kirk made a distressed noise.

“Is everything alright, Jim?”

Chekov got up on his knees, wincing at how stick he already was.

“You still had some dried alien cum in you,” said Kirk, and he indicated his own cock.

… the head of which was purple.

“Bones is never going to let me hear the end of this,” Kirk groaned, and then he grinned. “Oh well.”

“Oh well?”

“Bones complains about everything I do anyway,” said Kirk. “If I avoided stuff to stay on his good side, I’d never do anything fun.”

Chekov snorted. 

“But maybe next time -”

“Yes, yes,” said Chekov, making a vague hand motion, then flopping flat on the bed, “I’ll wear a raincoat.”


End file.
